A Proposal Gone Wrong
by twin-v
Summary: Draco had planned everything perfectly, so of course it all went wrong.


A/N: We must have written this (two versions, in fact!) purely for fun more than two years ago. We re-discovered it somehow, and really enjoyed it when we read it. We actually laughed out loud at some parts. So, we decided to fix it up and publish it. Hope you enjoy it as much as we do!

Oh, and if you liked **Forgettable Vows**, it's nominated for Best Mid-length Story at the Dramione Awards 2009!!! We're delighted. It's up against some of our favorite D/Hr stories of 2009, which is really an honor. Please take time to vote (for **FV** or for other stories) at .com/dramione_ until May 15 2010.

I dash around my bedroom, hurriedly getting ready for what is to be one of the most important days of my life. Today is the day when my future will be determined by a simple yes-or- no question. Tonight is the night that I propose to my girlfriend of nearly four years- Hermione Granger.

And I am running late. So very late.

On hindsight, taking that Sedative Draught just a few hours ago probably wasn't the best idea. But hey, I had been- and still am- extremely nervous. So it wasn't my fault that every time I'd glance at the clock I'd be too drowsy to worry- until I realized I only had ten minutes to get ready.

I glance at the clock again. Make that two minutes to get ready.

Quickly, I open a bottle of cologne, a present from Hermione, purchased from one of the most expensive stores in Diagon Alley, and spray some of the liquid onto myself. Would she recognize the scent? I hope so. And while I'm spraying myself, I decide to make good use of my time and practice possible ways of asking her. Multi-tasking is really the way to go.

_Please do me the honor of becoming my wife._

_Marry me, Hermione._

_Will you marry me, Hermione?_

_Please say you'll marry me, Hermione._

_You will marry me, won't you?_

_Just say yes. It doesn't matter what the question is. Just say yes, and then I'll tell y-_

Merlin, what's that awful smell? I sniff the air again and gag. It smells like someone's pet died…last year. I look at the bottle in my hand- it couldn't be, could it? Hermione would never…then again, it was the first time I was using the cologne. The first time since she had given it to me two and a half years ago. My lungs are on fire and I realize I need to breathe somehow. Desperately, I suck in air through my mouth- but it's no use, I can taste the vile liquid in the air. Perhaps I used a tad too much. I cough violently, and the bottle slips from my hand and spills all over the carpet.

"No," I whisper in horror, watching the liquid spread quickly. At least, I think it's spreading quickly. My eyes are so watery that I'm not actually sure.

I blindly reach for my wand and try every spell I can think of to remove the foul odor. I succeed in making the cologne disappear, but the stench remains.

"Scourgify," I wheeze again, trying not to inhale the cologne. There is still no improvement. Perhaps good old soap and water will have a better effect. I can only hope this is the case as I make a mad dash for the bathroom.

"_The problem with colognes made by wizards is that, although they smell better and last longer than those made by muggles, they have a short expiration date._" Great, _now_ I hear her voice in my head. I wish I had remembered that three minutes ago.

Three minutes! Crap. I'm officially late. Furiously, I try to wash myself, but a tentative sniff tells me my efforts are in vain. To top matters off, I can feel water seeping into my very expensive, brand new robes, and the feeling isn't exactly comfortable.

I yell for an elf and quickly remove my robes. Thankfully, by the time the elf arrives, I'm on the other side of the shower curtain, scrubbing myself until my skin is red.

"Did Master need Marty's assistance?"

"Do what you can to remove the smell from those robes, and from my room. I knocked over a bottle of cologne."

"Yes sir." The popping sound signals his departure. I wait for him to return with my robes. He doesn't take long. I'm quite proud of my house elves- you'll never find a speedier bunch in all of England.

"Excellent," I say, charming them onto my body from behind the curtain. I had fortunately remembered to dry myself and the shower area before putting on the robes. I inhale deeply. Unfortunately, there's still a faint trace of the odor- Hermione's words once again come to mind. "_They last longer than those made by muggles"_. Well, at least I can tell her she's right. On second thought, it would be best not to go into detail about this escapade of mine.

I hesitate for about five seconds- should I put on a different set of dress robes? I had bought this set specifically for this occasion, but perhaps I'd be better off using an older one...but which one? On an ordinary day I take five minutes to choose an outfit, so I can only imagine how long it would take me to choose one for the most important day of my life so far. These robes will have to do.

On the bright side, there is a lesson to be learned from all this. I'll definitely be buying two or three sets of dress robes for my wedding. If Hermione says yes, that it.

I check my watch- the exact time is no longer important. Hermione doesn't like it when I'm late, but she hates it when I'm extremely late. The hands on my watch point to a time classified in the "extremely late" range. Yep, definitely no time to change robes now.

I'm dead. So very dead.

I barely make time to fix my hair. As I set down my hair brush I pat my pocket- just to make sure the ring is still there. With no time to waste I Apparate to Hermione's house and ring the doorbell. I'm doubled over, tying my shoe laces, when she opens the door looking none too pleased.

"I'm so sorry," I blurt out, hoping my face shows it. With a sinking feeling, I realize that I've forgotten the bouquet of flowers that I had ordered for her. "I spilled the cologne, and had to take a second shower."

"Do you realize-"

"Honestly, Hermione, _smell_ me," I say desperately, stepping close to her and thrusting some fabric under her nose. Not a very bright idea, I know, because she might refuse to go out with me at all, what with me smelling like the refuse pile behind Greenhouse Three at Hogwarts. But she's worth the shot.

She gags and steps backwards quickly, her hand over her mouth and nose. "Oh, ew, Draco, that's the foulest thing I've ever smelled!" She coughs and makes a violent heaving motion- I move towards her, concerned, but she waves me back. "Fresh air, fresh air, fresh air."

I stay back, slightly hurt and indignant- I do _not_ smell that bad- as she closes her eyes and takes several deep breaths. Perhaps I shouldn't go through with this. I could reschedule the date. I could propose to her another time. After all, it doesn't really _have_ to be on the anniversary of the day I asked Hermione out on our first ever date. I could ask her to marry me on any other day and the answer would still be the same. I think.

I have no idea how the female mind works, but what if one day _isn't_ as good as another? What if, when Hermione was still a teenager, she had sat with all her other giggly teenage friends and had discussed her ideal proposal date? What if today wasn't it? Or what if it had been yesterday? I inhale sharply.

The hippogryffs in my stomach only increase their velocity. I glance at Hermione- she seems to have retained her lunch, at any rate, and is recovering. She opens one eye a crack and gives me a small smile.

I return her smile, relieved. At least she doesn't hate me for almost making her throw up. I finger the small box in my pocket through the fabric, allowing it to calm my nerves. If Hermione really _did_ set her ideal proposal date to yesterday- well, this would simply be a test of how much she loves me.

Besides, as the jeweler had said, who in their right mind would dare refuse me?

All right, so she was old and almost blind, but she did seem encouraging when I asked her if she thought I had a good chance.

Of course, I wouldn't have bought a ring if she had told me I didn't stand a chance in hell, so she could have just been trying to make a sale.

Hermione has opened both her eyes and is sniffing the air tentatively. "Sorry about that," she says ruefully. "I wasn't prepared for it."

Well. I had been about to apologize for shoving my robes under her nose without warning, but since Hermione had already apologized, there is no need to dwell on the subject. "So you forgive me for being late?"

"Well, you did provide pretty strong proof, so… of course I do." She smiles at me, but I can feel her holding her breath as I kiss her. Really, how does she think I feel _wearing_ these infernal robes?

"Marty was supposed to have removed all the smell from the robes," I inform her. "He'd be disappointed to know you think he's slacking off."

She splutters indignantly, just like I hoped she would. "I didn't say that! I do not think he's slacking off. The robes smell perfectly fresh. It's not the robes that are the problem."

I narrow my eyes accusingly. "Are you saying I'm the problem?"

"Would you deny it?"

I can't honestly deny it, so after a few painful moments of silence I change topic. "The restaurant I had in mind is Spanish, but we'll need to take a carriage to get there because we can't Apparate or Disapparate to it. It prevents people from leaving without paying."

"And where do we get a carriage?"

"I, uh, have one at home. One of the house elves will, uh, I mean- has _volunteered_ to drive us there. It's not far. We'll just Apparate to my house then go to the restaurant from there."

"Great. I'll get my cloak."

I nod, and pat my pocket absently, trying to think of how I can give her the flowers without her realizing that I forgot them. Perhaps I can pretend to pull them out of her ear. It's a nice trick, although not terribly romantic. Perhaps I can conjure a bouquet and surprise her when she comes back? I groan unhappily. This is possibly the worst date with Hermione that I've ever had. Ever.

It even beats that time I rowed us out to the middle of a lake and started teasing her by rocking the boat. I grin to myself as I remember. She had been screaming in fear, and threatening me in between screams. It had honestly been funny to watch the normally brave witch grip the side of the boat in a death grip while trying to threaten me with her wand. Of course, the fun had ended when my rocking actually managed to over-turn the boat.

Although really, wizarding boats have anti-overturning charms. How was I to know Muggles didn't have similar electricity-based protections on theirs?

Hermione returns a few moments later, cloak in hand. "Let's go. I'm starving."

I take her hand and we Disapparate, appearing a second later in Malfoy Manor with a rather loud pop. That would be me. Much to my chagrin, Hermione Apparates and Disapparates with nary a sound, whereas I- let's just say I've been teased that all I lack is a puff of smoke, whatever that means. That would be Potter's insanely lame and utterly incomprehensible joke.

The first thing I notice when I arrive is the carriage in front of us. Hermione and I have appeared in front of the manor itself, to save us a little bit of time. Marty opens the door and I thank him and hop in.

Finally, something has gone right.

I turn to grin at Hermione, who is just entering the carriage. Oops. Maybe I should have helped her into the carriage first. Oh well. I spot some flowers on the seat opposite us.

"These are for you." I hand her the flowers that Marty so thoughtfully set out for me.

"Draco, you shouldn't have," Hermione exclaims, although she sounds rather pleased. She reaches for the bouquet and conjures a vase for it. "So it stays fresh," she explains, smiling at me.

I return the grin and reach for her hand, squeezing it slightly. "Have I told you how beautiful you are tonight?"

Even through the dim light of the carriage I can see her blush. It's rather cute, honestly. "Not yet."

"You're gorgeous." I kiss her hand, the one I'm still holding, before pulling her towards me for a proper kiss. She moans encouragingly, and I run my hands along her body-

"_Puzolentus_."

I draw back, horrified. "Did you just cast a spell while we were kissing?"

She looks around guiltily and hides her wand behind her back, as if I'd never see it there.

"The, um, smell was making me dizzy."

"Sorry," I growl defensively, moving as far away from her as I can. I had just started to relax, and she had to ruin the moment. Then again, I suppose it's better than her throwing up all over me. I shudder at the thought. Malfoys aren't accustomed to vomit.

"It's fine, the _Puzolentus_ incantation is hardly known, I've only ever seen it in two books."

"Wow," I can't help but comment, "_you've_ only ever seen it in two books? What chance do the rest of us have of ever reading about it?"

She purses her lips and decides not to speak, preferring instead to look at the scenery outside the window.

I suppress the urge to run my hands through my hair and scream bloody murder at whichever fate cursed tonight. This cannot get any worse.

I close my eyes, and force myself to relax. The Sedating Draught I used on myself earlier hasn't completely worn out yet, although adrenaline does wonders to counter it. Perhaps this is all just a dream, and when I wake up, I'll still have ample time to get dressed and I'll know not to touch the cologne… I'll have Marty throw it out… Hermione can't prove that I didn't use it, after all.

"Draco, wake up," I hear her saying crossly. "We're here. I can't believe you fell asleep on our date!"

I jerk awake. I hadn't actually slept, had I? "I was just closing my eyes," I told her as I smoothed my hair and got out of the carriage.

"Right," she said, studying me as I help her alight. "Wipe the drool from the corner of your mouth, then."

I roll my eyes at her as she walks past me, but once her back is turned I surreptitiously wipe my chin. A waiter welcomes us to the restaurant, and I'm pleased to hear our reservation has been held for us. Things are looking up.

Ten minutes later we've ordered, and the mood has lightened considerably. Hermione loves the restaurant, making random comments about the decoration and the soft music in the background. By the time our food arrives, I'm hardly feeling nervous, or so I tell myself. I'm just waiting for the perfect moment to pop the question. I can feel the comforting presence of the ring box on my leg, and I try to relax until the end of the meal.

Before I know it, we finish eating. This is it. It feels like the right moment. We're both filled with that happy feeling that comes from having a scrumptious meal. Taking a deep breath, I reach across the table and take Hermione's right hand in my left, while my other hand reaches into my pocket for the ring box. I take another deep breath, and my heart rate suddenly shoots up.

"Hermione," I start, "I was wondering if-" I break off suddenly, as my fingers brush against something that is most definitely NOT the velvet ring box I thought was there. Instead, it feels hard and plastic- my cellphone. My brand new cellphone. The object I'm not accustomed to carrying.

Oh, shit.

I suddenly have a flashback to that moment not too long ago, when I was still under the Sedative Draught.

I was about to pick up the velvet box when I spotted my new cellphone, lying there beside it. I picked up the phone and pretended to speak into it, grinning at myself in the mirror. _"Yes, that's right, the honeymoon suite for Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy…"_ then I saw the clock, noticed the time, and panicked. I put the phone, ring and wallet in my pockets, and when I removed my robes to have Marty clean them, I took out the wallet and the ring, completely forgetting my phone...and then forgetting to put the ring back. And if I didn't put the ring back...then that means...

Double shit.

My wallet. It's gone too.

"What, Draco?" Hermione's voice brings me back to the present.

"This is really hard for me to ask," I say, my voice wobbling a bit. I want to chuck my cellphone at the nearest wall, and watch it shatter into a million pieces. Instead, I grip her hand tighter and forge on, hoping I don't break down and cry halfway through. "You know how, up until we got to the restaurant, I had been having a really crappy night?"

Her face softens, and she turns her hand in mine so our fingers are interlocked. "I'm sorry I was snappy then. But it's been a wonderful night overall."

"Yeah." My voice sounds strangled to my own ears. "But I have to confess something, and I'm really, really, really sorry about this." I can feel the sweat beading on my forehead, I swallow hard. "I forgot my wallet."

Hermione stares at me in astonishment. "Your wallet?"

I nod, my face burning with embarrassment. "And I was wondering if- if you could pay?" Definitely _not_ the question I had been wanting to ask her tonight- or ever, actually. I hope to Merlin she brought enough money with her.

To my immense relief, she nods and reaches for her purse. "Of course," she smiles soothingly. "Don't worry about it." She signals the waiter and I sag in my seat.

"Thanks," I say gratefully. "I'm really sorry about this, I can't believe I forgot. I'll pay you back." I don't think my cheeks will ever return to their normal color.

"Don't worry about it," she says again, waving her hand dismissively. "The food was great, and I enjoyed the evening. I don't mind paying for it."

I frown. "No, I invited you. I ought to pay."

"But you never let me pay, even when _I_ invite you."

"Because you're a gi-" Fortunately I stop myself, before I manage to incriminate myself further. Unfortunately, Hermione's not the quickest witch of the age for nothing, and she catches my meaning. I want to slam my head against the wall. Repeatedly. Our differences in upbringing had brought about differences in opinion, and had caused Hermione to label me as sexist. It was an argument we'd had several times before, and I did not want to get into it tonight. I hardly think I'm sexist, I just don't think Hermione needs to pay for her dinners when she's got a boyfriend as wealthy as I am.

"Because I'm a girl?" she asks incredulously, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "Is that it?"

"Because you're my girlfriend, and I want to take care of you," I say bluntly, too cross to allow myself to be drawn into a pointless argument. "Look, Hermione, I've had a really, _really_ horrible night. Not the date itself," I add hastily, seeing her hurt look. "But everything else before it, and now this. So just pay the damned tab, so we can go to the Manor and I can pay you back."

Oops. Maybe I shouldn't have let my temper get the better of me. I can see the fire in her eyes as easily as I can see the stiffness in her movements. "You don't have to pay me back, and I don't want to go back to the Manor," she says coldly. "I'd rather go home. This hasn't been the best evening for me either, if you would care to think of anyone but yourself."

That almost does it- I almost call the whole thing off. Obviously, I wasn't meant to propose. I briefly wonder if there's a curse placed on Malfoys that prevent them from proposing to Muggleborns, but I discard the idea almost immediately. My ancestors believed that no Malfoy would ever _want_ to propose to a Muggleborn. Perhaps it's an omen, then. I'm sure if Professor Trelawney were to be consulted, she would say that both Hermione and I would kill each other- or ourselves- within the first month of our marriage. At this moment, I'm inclined to agree with the drunken old bat.

But, I'm nothing if not determined. This latest attempt of Fate to stop me from proposing has made me determined to get the bloody evening over with. I just want to ask the stupid question and be done with it. At this point I don't care what Hermione's answer is.

Or, well, I do. Of course I do. But the point is, the question has to be asked _tonight_, because I don't think I can survive another night like this.

I exhale sharply as the waiter brings the cheque, trying to think of the best way to change her mind about returning to the Manor. "Two minutes," I say, trying not to wheedle. "I need to show you something."

"Can't it wait until tomorrow?" Hermione asks irritably, once the tab has been settled. She stands up and I follow suit.

"No, it can't. Please, Hermione." I rarely ask this nicely. Maybe Hermione notices, because she sighs and nods reluctantly. That was easy. Maybe I should ask nicely more often.

The carriage ride is filled with uncomfortable silence. Hermione doesn't seem predisposed to say anything, and I can't think of anything to say. She glances at me several times- probably making sure I don't fall asleep on her again- and continues staring out of her window with a giant huff.

I know better than to ask her what's wrong when she's in a huffy mood, so I keep quiet and amuse myself by thinking of ways in which the evening could possibly have gotten worse. The Dark Lord could have come back from the dead tonight, or Potter and Weasley could have showed up, or a novice could have Apparated on top of Hermione, having gotten the Destination wrong... Yes, the date could have gone much worse. In fact, we're quite lucky a troll or- or a hippogryff- didn't show up uninvited at the restaurant, and I'm just about to mention this to Hermione when she gives me a _Look_. I bite my tongue and imagine what it would finally be like to have Hermione as my wife. I can't wait for her to say yes, because then maybe I'd stop being so scared that she'll decide that she doesn't want me anymore every time I make her mad.

Who am I kidding? This is the worst evening ever. If the Dark Lord did return, at least Hermione would talk to me.

As soon as we reach the Manor I jump out of the carriage and race to my room. Damn. I forgot to help Hermione out of the carriage. What's wrong with me tonight? Did Potter and Weasley slip me a Bad Luck Potion or something? My mother would have fainted at such a display of ill-breeding. I grab some money and the ring box and rush back downstairs. Hermione is in the living room by the time I return, clutching at a stitch in my side. "Here," I pant, shoving the cash at her.

"I thought you were just going to show me something," she says belligerently, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Just take it, all right?" I run a frustrated hand through my hair, and collapse on the couch, flinging the money down beside me. She can be so obstinate. "This is already the worst bloody evening in my entire life."

Hermione stands still, mutely watching me for a few moments. I ignore her, too caught up in sulking. The universe hates me- I think I'm entitled to sulk every once in a while. I scarcely pay attention when Hermione heaves a big sigh and sits next to me, taking one of my hands in hers.

"Draco, so you came late and forgot your wallet, I'm sure it's happened to other people," she says soothingly. "At least you haven't been turned into a cat during _school_ time, or been attacked and almost killed by brains, or been to Slughorn's Christmas party with_ Cormac Mclaggen_, of all people!"

"I'm sure it hasn't happened to other people," I growl, only half-aware that I'm even _speaking_. "I'm sure it's never happened to Potter, and I'm sure it's never happened to any other man out there who was planning to propose, so just take the damn money!"

My breath catches as I realize what I've just said. Oh, _shit. _I raise my head and look at Hermione. She stares back at me, eyebrows raised. I close my eyes with a resigned sigh. "I wasn't supposed to tell you that. You know, that I was going to propose." Great. If she hadn't heard it the first time, she had definitely heard it by the second.

"You were going to propose? Tonight?"

"Yes," I snap. "No need to rub it in. I'm the only man who's ever arrived late, forgotten the flowers, forgotten the ring, and who couldn't even pay for the dinner he invited his girlfriend to."

Hermione looks at the flowers I had given, and I see her trying to suppress a giggle. It makes me scowl even more. "Now the woman I'm supposed to propose to is laughing at me."

"I'm sorry," she says, immediately trying to keep a straight face. "It just sounds so funny when you think about it."

"I don't _want_ to think about it," I retort, feeling my face heat up. "Like I said, this is the worst night of my life. And you haven't answered my question."

"What question?"

"_The_ question."

"You didn't ask a question."

I gape at her. Now that she knows I was planning to propose, she might as well give me her answer. "You know what question I'm talking about, you're not an idiot," I say impatiently. My patience has long gone, my temper is badly frayed, and my ego has deflated to the size of a knut. I have to salvage what's left of it.

Hermione just smiles. "I refuse to let you ruin this evening further, Draco. Just ask me already!"

"Why can't you just say yes?"

"Please?"

"Granger, this is the worst night of my life. You might as well just accept before something else goes wrong."

"Malfoy, years from now our children will ask us how you proposed, and what will you say? 'I didn't ask her, I just told her to say yes'?"

"If you're talking about children, it means you've already accepted," I point out, feeling clever. "So let's just save our time here, shall we?"

"What are you so worried about if you know I"ll say yes?" Hermione asks.

"Nothing."

"Then just ask!" she says exasperatedly, punctuating her demand with one other word- "Men!"

I sigh. "Does it really matter?"

She nods. I sigh again- in case she didn't hear my first one- and straighten in my seat, rolling my eyes to show how dumb I think this is. "Hermione, will you marry me?"

"Yes."

We sit in silence for a moment and grin at each other. I can't believe nothing bad has happened- the house collapsing, perhaps, or my hair falling out (I wouldn't be wholly surprised, what with the evening having gone as badly as it had).

Then I realized I had forgotten the ring for a second time this evening. "Er... would you like to see the ring?"

"And maybe you could put it on me?" Hermione asks excitedly.

"Of course." I pull the box out of my pocket and open it. She gasps.

"Oh, Draco! It's beautiful! Thank you!" She pulls me in for a quick kiss, then stretches out her hand expectantly.

I grin at her excitement and slip the ring onto her finger. It stops halfway down the finger- that's as far as the ring can go. Uh oh. "It doesn't fit," I mumble quietly, hoping against hope that she won't notice.

"Can't you enlarge it?" she asks, trying to twist the ring down further.

"No, only the store can do that."

"Why did you get such a small -ow!- ring?" She's given up on trying to force the ring on, and is now trying to take it off. "Anyone can see it's too small!"

My face burns with embarrassment. "Well, my hands are bigger than yours, so I figured that if it didn't fit me, it would fit you."

"You could have been a bit more observant."

"You could be a bit slimmer!"

Hermione's mouth drops open. I know, it's below the belt and completely untrue- she's already quite slender. However, I can't unsay what's already been said. I try to make the best of it anyway. "I mean your fingers. They're very muscular, it must be because you write so much..." I trail off, and decide to try something else. "I'm sorry, Hermione. Not just about what I said, but for everything. For being late, forgetting my wallet, and now the small ring."

"it's all right," she says quietly. "We all have bad days."

"Today was supposed to be one of the best."

"Well, the ring doesn't matter- I still said yes."

"Yeah, you did."

"So we're still engaged."

"But-"

Hermione shakes her head. "Little things don't matter, Draco. It doesn't matter whether I have a ring or not."

"But I wanted it to be perfect," I tell her, unable to completely prevent the petulant whine in my voice.

"It was. You completely surprised me. And the ring is beautiful, dinner was delicious, and the flowers were really sweet of you."

"But I didn't ask the question properly."

"You did eventually, and besides, it's not that important."

I raise my eyebrows at that. "Wasn't it a matter of life or death for you earlier?"

She looks a little sheepish. "Well, every girl _does_ dream of a perfect proposal, and even though she has no idea what it will be like, she counts on a ring, which you gave, and the question, which you asked. The ring and the question are important, but not as important as the fact that we're engaged. I think just the fact that it's _you_ makes it pretty perfect already." Her cheeks turn pink, maybe because she's not used to making such sappy speeches, but I appreciate it.

As usual, Hermione is right. I can feel myself relaxing, finally allowing myself to accept that we're engaged. I grin at her until I remember something. "I forgot to kiss you."

"I kissed you," she points out.

"I mean a real kiss, my future Mrs. Malfoy." I pull her close, kissing her properly. "There," I say, once I'm satisfied.

"Great kiss, awful cologne," she teases.

"Funny. Are you admitting that your spell earlier didn't work?" I tease her back. "So, do you feel any different now?"

She contemplated it. "Other than feeling slightly nauseous…" she retorts jokingly, "no, not really. Maybe we should tell people."

"Good idea."

"I'll tell my parents," Hermione says, taking out her cell phone.

"I'll tell, uh," I hesitate for a moment. My parents are still in Azakaban, so it will have to be Pansy.

"Hi Mum!" Hermione is already speaking into her phone excitedly. "I'm engaged! Draco just proposed. Yeah, just earlier. It was kind of funny, really…"

As she launches into a very detailed account of how the night went, I decide Pansy can wait until I've figured out a way to answer all of her inevitable and inane questions about the details of my proposal without sounding like a complete idiot. Hermione is outright laughing now, and I cover my face with a convenient throw pillow.

I think I'll fake sick at the next Granger Family reunion. I'll never be able to live this down.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed it! Poor Draco- but it was alright in the end :) Don't forget to vote at the Dramione Awards 2009!


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